


Masterpiece

by hanihyunsu



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Acceptance, America/England Feels (Hetalia), Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Dates, Band Fic, Depressed Alfred F. Jones, Ex-Boyfriends, Exes, Feels, FrUSUK, France Being France (Hetalia), Guitars, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Live band, M/M, Mentioned Canada (Hetalia), Mentioned Monaco (Hetalia), Misery, Musicians, Restaurants, Singing, a really bad fic, post breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanihyunsu/pseuds/hanihyunsu
Summary: Prompt: Alfred sings at restaurants with a live band and they encountered an ex...with his/her new husband. (I chose Arthur, obviously).FrUsUk Light Angst or Hurt/Comfort, basically.First work of the decade, and it has to be Hetalia. Enjoy.
Relationships: America & Canada & England & France & Seychelles (Hetalia), America & Denmark & Prussia (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 25





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song used in fic. Song's not mine.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated! ʕ•ٹ•ʔ

The whispers of the restaurant customers filled them with both excitement and hesitation. Yes, the night might end up filled with tips but the audience was too big. Could they sing to everyone? 

Gilbert tapped his shoulders, alerting him. "Heads up, kid. This is your biggest audience yet." 

He nodded and adjusted the strap of the guitar on his shoulder. "I did just join last month but I'm 23, Gil. Michelle's even younger than me!" 

"Irrelevant," Gilbert scoffed, wearing his prized army jacket and grabbing his beatbox drum. "Michelle, you good?" 

"Yep!" the shorter girl said smiling, pulling the strings of her boots tighter. "Where's Matthias, though?" 

"Signing stuff," Gilbert replied, "for once." 

As if on cue, their loud Danish main guitarist swept the curtains and entered with the band pass. "We play until 8, that good?" 

The four glanced at the packed restaurant, especially since it was dinner time, and back to the passes. Alfred smiled at the Danish' sweet-talking skills. 

"Good enough," Gilbert smiled. "Actually, great. We can go have some pasta at Ludwig's place at 9." 

"Yeah!" Alfred grinned at the promise of pasta. He met Gilbert's brother Ludwig and his fiancé Feliciano once, and the original Italian pasta recipe was topnotch. He never had the same quality pasta ever since. 

They stepped out of the employee-only area and roamed around. The bright lights blessed them goodluck. Well, maybe it didn't, but it felt that way. Alfred can't help but put a small spring in his steps in excitement. 

Their first customer was a young couple, visibly flushed from being approached by a live band. Alfred could guess it was their first time on a semi-large scale dinner date. Must be first year anniversary celebrants*, he thought. 

Michelle picked the song, one of the sweetest she had. Gilbert followed it with a nice beat and Matthias strummed the chords perfectly. It was his duty to have the back-up strumming, sometimes some light beats as well, but mostly, the male vocal. 

Many of Michelle's practiced songs require a male vocal, and Matthias had been dying to have another band member since the band formed. Alfred may have been desperate for an income sideline ever since he got fired from his newspaper company, but he never thought he would be *this* lucky. He and Michelle met before at highschool and her "some kinda distant distant distant cousin family friends whatever" Gilbert and Matthias were easy to talk to and had the same sense of humor as him. 

Playing live at restaurants, diners and small shows may not seem like it was some kind of a steady source of income, but the results may say otherwise. The three already pushed out an album twice before he joined, back when Michelle was only 16 and the others 19 and 20. He can't make that up. They were already on their lyric-writing phase when he joined them last month, and he was blessed to have survived up until now. If he didn't join, he may have died of literal starvation. He can't make that up, either. 

They moved from one table to another, serenading both young and old couples, families of 3s and 5s, small groups of employees on their payday, and many more. Many of them were just as flustered, confused and shocked as the first young couple when they approached, but he was glad to know that many of them also enjoyed their presence. That one family even recognized their faces, being a supporter when they played at a small concert at a university. Alfred was even noticed as a new member, and complimented the group's improving quality. 

He couldn't be more proud. They shared fist bumps and high-fives on their way to the next room. Their passes said they could play at the reserved area of the restaurant. This place, according to Matthias and Gilbert, will either make thinks go smoother or rougher. The people in the reserved areas are businessmen, rich birthday celebrants and wealthy old couples with a bunch of money to spare. It was practically jackpot, until they start to request songs. They were the reason Michelle looks up and practices as much songs as she can, and also the reason they need a male vocal. 

It did get kind of awkward when Michelle sang "I Know What You Did Last Summer" by herself. 

It also helped with the much-avoided vocal strain. 

They entered, with Gilbert giving him a motivating tap on the shoulder. "This is will be easy. We practiced." 

He nodded and followed Michelle as they approached a table. Alfred peeked and saw a young man, around 18, in suit and across him a young lady around her early teens in a nice dress. They must be brother and sister. 

Based on the pink birthday cake, it must be the sister's birthday. 

"Go on, play anything," the brother said, speaking in mildly intimidating Swiss accent, and nodded at them. Michelle picked a nice song, one she can sing by herself, which made Alfred sigh in relief. He did the back-ups though, but he could say his first "reserved-area experience" entered quite smoothly. 

When she ended the song, they were handed a hefty tip. Alfred can't stop his smile as they all bowed and thanked them. It motivated him even more. Maybe they can eat not just pasta but also burgers for dinner, if this kept up. 

As they moved to the next table, Gilbert slyly bumped to his shoulder. 

"What?" he whispered. 

"The two we sang to earlier were my cousins," Gilbert whispered, huffing. "The guy, Basch, really liked catching us at restaurants he knew we were going to play at." 

"It's just a running gag that we act semi-surprised of seeing them over and over again," Matthias added. 

Alfred smiled in amusement. "Maybe they actually liked to see you perform, dudes." 

"More like trying to catch us fail to perform," Gilbert commented in a low tone before clearing his throat, "Anyway, I just have you know that Basch is thrifty as shit. We like to recognize his tips as a sign he thinks we are getting better." 

"What did he give us this time?" Alfred asked. 

"50." 

"What did he give you last time?" 

"10." 

"I really am an important and valuable member-" 

"Don't get big-headed kid," Gilbert chuckled, mussing his hair. They reached the next table and performed. 

They encountered many tables soon after. Gilbert and Matthias were rightーthey do have the guts to request songsーbut fortunately he knew all of them. He also got to sing as a main vocal for the first time in the reserved area, at the table with the 8 or so employees celebrating their boss' birthday. In the end, he scored the band a large $100 tip. 

He did sing 3 songs, though. That must be rationalized. As they were about to move to the next table, he realized his shoelaces were untied. He pushed his guitar to his back and bent down to retie them. 

"Oh, they look rich," he heard Michelle say. 

"Sophisticated, I like it," Gilbert said in a bad fancy accent, making the others laugh. They started to make their way to said table, but Matthias looked back at him and waited. He really was the type to wait for a friend as they tied their laces. 

The moment Alfred stood and held his guitar once again, his world stopped. Past Michelle's shoulders he saw that one face he swore to himself he would forget. 

*Why the fuck is he here?* 

"Would you like to request a song?" Michelle asked sweetly, while he suffered from behind her. 

*Why the fuck is Arthur here of all places? 

"Please, sing anything you like," some man spoke in a heavy French accent. Alfred glanced across the table and saw the owner of the voice, a man in a fine suit of dark blues and blacks. He did look sophisticated, cradling a glass of champagne at the candle-lit dinner. 

Gilbert stepped aside, slyly motioning for Alfred to take spot. Michelle glanced at them, which Alfred found hard to return. His eyes were stuck either at the floor or the rich blue and maroon wallpaper of the room. 

"We would like to perform a song called Masterpiece, by Big Thief," Michelle said, gaining nods from the other members. Alfred, however, merely managed to move his head in contrary how his fingers were shaking from his guitar. Gilbert counted, and Alfred quickly willed himself to stay and maintain his focus. 

Masterpiece had been the first song they practiced when he joined. It was originally a female main vocal, but they decided to test the waters for a male vocal instead. It did turn out really great, especially given that he was a rich soprano and can handle the falsetto notes in the original. The lyrics were just as exceptionalーthe writer was a goddamn genius. It was a sad song for souls that missed not anything in particular. It quickly grew to be one of his go-to songs to sing when he felt lonely or bored.

But why at this table in the large restaurant? As if fate couldn't hate him any less. 

Matthias strummed the opening, and he only felt his heart beat louder in his chest. The others didn't know much about his past, and he doesn't blame them. It's not he could refuse a willing customer. 

He* had been a band member himself in the past. He knew how tiring this gig could feel. Alfred remembered him giving tips to customer service and live bands many times before. 

Much to his own stupid subconscious, he met the green eyes he swore to himself he would never feel the same love for ever again. 

Why, Arthur fucking Kirkland, are you here? 

The British gentleman finally met his gaze and his hands froze in recognition, but didn't let go of the teacup. It was clear in his slightly widened eyes that he didn't anticipate (nor wanted) to see him either. 

Alfred only noticed the countings he should be paying attention to when it neared to his entry. He took a deep breath and started. 

//Years, days, makes no difference to me babe  
You look exactly the same to me// 

Arthur wore a new suit, he noticed. It was black with hints of purple this time, in contrast to the old, tacky browns he used to wear when they were together. Alfred remembered buying him a nice complete set for work as a gift, but the only remainder Alfred could see from the suit he gave Arthur was the purple vest he wore inside, which perfectly hid the A&A embroidery on the edge. 

God help him, how much money did he waste on that?

He met Arthur's eyes once again, and hoped nobody noticed he missed a chord on the back-up strumming. The song itself was gentle, almost like a precious appreciation for someone who was sleeping. Was it meant to be that ironic? 

Arthur finally broke the eye contact and sipped his tea. Something fancy, he reckoned. 

//Ain't no time, crossing your legs inside the diner  
Raising your coffee to your lips, the steam// 

However, when Alfred looked back up on the face of the one he used to live for, he can still see the hints of the Arthur he liked. He may have fattened up a little, but the eyebrows Alfred often teased yet admired was still there. He may have aged a little bit, but he didn't grow any taller. 

Alfred can't just admit it out loud, but Arthur might as well didn't change. He was still the same guy he used to miss. 

He felt his throat tighten and the sly gazes Matthias and Gilbert were giving him to sting, but it was the perfect time to act nothing was wrong. 

//You saw the masterpiece, she looks a lot like you  
Wrapping her left arm around your right  
Ready to walk you through the night// 

He continued, getting the hang of the notes and letting go of the shakiness in his voice. He moved on, right? He had set the pain free from its cage long ago, right? Right. 

When he glanced at the table, there was a plate with syrup spelling out their names. Arthur and Francis Bonnefoy, it said. 

He laughed in his head. Heh, a very French boyfriend down to the name. I thought you hated French cuisine, Arthur? 

He did meet the Francis guy through Matthew before, but never in this manner. He doubted Francis can even recognize him, especially at this angle. He couldn't care less. 

But as much as he could admit, Francis was a better man in general. It might sound self-depreciating, but if he were to choose between himself and Francis, even he would choose the latter. He was much more financially stable, and probably didn't eat burgers and ramen for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

Being a egotistic idiot as many of his friends described him as, admitting that stung his pride. So long, ego, rest in fucking peace. 

//You whisper to a restless ear, "can you get me out of here?  
This place smells like piss and beer, can you get me out?"  
You were asking me, how to get you free  
I only know the recipe to roam// 

He had to give himself credit for admitting defeat, though. And also at the fact he took pride in at least* loving someone better than Francis could ever do, albeit that being too questionable to confirm. 

He may have won that (in his wildest dreams), but he lost in the silent contest on who made Arthur happier. He clearly, clearly lost. 

And he's forever sorry to hurt someone other than himself. 

//You saw the masterpiece, she looks a lot like you  
Wrapping her left arm around your right  
Ready to walk you through the night// 

He heard the two adopted a kid last week. 

He glanced at the sparkling ring Arthur wore and never looked back at it again. 

He hoped they're happy with whatever they had on their lives. 

Arthur, I hope you're happy now, his subconscious spat. 

He did look happier, his rational mindset whispered back. 

Arthur's green eyes glowed in a manner he hadn't witnessed before when they were together. He never thought that those eyes could look so kind for someone quite vulgar. He never thought Arthur could look so much more pristine and elegant. 

Well, good for him. He finally found someone to look after him. 

Properly, that is. Alfred took a deep breath. 

//Old stars  
Filling up my throat  
You gave 'em to me when I was born  
Now they're coming out  
Laying there on the hospital bed your eyes were narrow, blue and red// 

When he first met Arthur, he was horrible. They both knew that. And when he left Arthur, he ended up worse than he started. He doesn't think he knew. 

He did wish Arthur was happy with him, but no matter how much nights of imagination he spent, the truth still floats to the surface inevitably. It was that phase of self-pity and confused anger after a break-up. 

//You took a draw of breath and said to me  
You saw the masterpiece, she looks a lot like me  
Wrapping my left arm round your right  
Ready to walk you through the night// 

But maybe that was the point of the post-breakup loneliness. To make someone slowly adjust to the reality of loneliness they tried so hard to deny and defy. 

Well, fuck all of that. He moved on, and yet his pride had gone to the windows as he sang to his ex and his husband. 

God, he looks so pathetic and awkward. This was all for work, he tried to tell himself, but the intimacy of the song did nothing to keep his voice from slightly wavering and his fingers from missing chords. 

//Old friends, old mothers, dogs and brothers  
There's only so much letting go you can ask someone to do  
So I keep you by my side, I will not give you to the tide  
I'll even walk you in my stride, Marie// 

It was at that moment he met his eyes once again. Sky blue met with green, and he only managed to glance away. 

The song was honest, though. Asking someone to let go was one of the most dreary and impudent things someone could do. However, it wasn't anyone's fault either. Everyone had the right to ask someone to let go if it was choking them enough. 

And when Arthur asked him to let go, he was sad and terrible. Maybe this time, he should ask himself to let Arthur go too. 

Francis sipped champagne calmly and smiled sweetly at Arthur across the table. 

Yeah, he thought, letting Arthur go definitely is the right choice. 

//Cause I saw the masterpiece, she looks a lot like you  
Wrapping your left arm round my right  
Ready to walk me through the night// 

As the song ended, he gave himself a virtual tap on the back. He sang nicer than all the thoughts running in his head, and Francis doesn't seem to notice. Michelle thanked them, and they left. 

Brushing away the whispered questions the others immediately pushed on him as "I'm just tired", he took a short glance out the window to the familiar sleek black car parked outside. There stood a certain blonde teenager holding a small child by the hand, both familiar faces he might say, and he could only wave awkwardly when the two met his gaze from a floor above. 

As their babysitter rushed to them from the side, he took a closer look. That must be the masterpiece he was unknowingly singing about. 

And the song didn't lie. She did look a lot like Arthur. 

He stepped away and went on with the night, never looking back at the one table in the side ever again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like a guy and I hate him too.


End file.
